


Do People Even Wear Cardigans in the Future?

by charlesss



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Because I'm A Coward, Family Dynamics, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt Morality | Patton Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, I wasn't, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders-centric, So it's ok, There should be a tag for that, Time Travel, Tone Whiplash, and an Idiot, but i'm self aware, i mean unless people aren't doing it on purpose?, paradoxes don't exist, things get a little weird, wait why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesss/pseuds/charlesss
Summary: Patton accidentally ends up in 2019, and has to figure out how to get back to the 80's to save his best friend (and definitely not crush), Dr. Virgil Stormm. Along the way, he meets some interesting characters - and perhaps, his family.





	1. A Whole New World (Sort Of)

They had both suspected this day would come, but not so soon. Both had hoped for - expected, even - more time, both to prepare for this and to notice it happening. As it were, they had only noticed the intruders when the security alarms went off, long after they were expecting to hear of their presence. For the past few minutes, they had worked feverishly to hide and destroy everything, determined to leave nothing to be stolen or copied.

 

Unfortunately (and somewhat ironically), time had run out.

 

“Patton, you need to get out of here!” Virgil hissed, shoving an armful of blueprints and papers into a drawer. He slammed it shut when nothing more could fit in, locking it before moving on to the next pile of documents. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his breathing seemed erratic and shallow. Patton was shoving papers and notebooks into his arms, though he froze for a moment when Virgil spoke.

 

“I am not leaving without you!” he finally willed himself to move, grabbing at Virgil's arm and pulling him towards the fire exit. Virgil wrenched his arm out of Patton's grip, moving back towards his desk. “They'll be here in a minute, tops, and I can't _leave you,_ Virge, they'll _kill_ you _-”_

 

“They'll have to catch me before they can kill me,” Virgil growled, frantically typing commands into his bulky computer as the pounding of footsteps grew louder. He had abandoned the massive piles of writings and diagrams, now attempting to delete whatever digital information he had collected during his years researching and inventing. “And I sure as hell won't make it easy for them. Meet me at my brother's apartment in two hours. If I'm not there-”

 

“I'm not meeting you anywhere,” Patton grabbed one of the devices sitting on a nearby table, sliding it onto his wrist. He held out an identical twin to Virgil, the only other invention left in the room. Everything else had already been hidden or - much to Virgil's sorrow - destroyed. “We can escape, just skip ahead a few hours-”

 

“Dr. Stormm, open this door!” someone pounded on the door, shouting through the thick metal. Patton's hand began to shake, and he thrusted the bracelet-like device towards his friend. Virgil eyed it wearily, inhaling sharply as he saw the matching device on Patton's wrists.

 

“Please,” Patton hissed, eyes filling with tears. “You're already prepared to die for this. They'll take everything if they kill you, at least this way you can live to take it back…”

 

“Dr. Stormm, this is your last warning!” distantly Patton could hear the hiss of a blowtorch, and the edges of the door began to glow a bright red… The two stared at each other for a moment, and finally, Virgil nodded.

 

“Okay,” he breathed. He reached for the bracelet, ready to pull it onto his wrist as Patton had done-

 

The door fell the ground, and a swarm of masked and armored men ran into the room, many of them already firing on the two inside. Patton yelled, slamming to the floor to avoid the bullets, wincing as the device on his wrist crunched on impact. The other device slipped from both men's hands. It fell to the floor and rolled towards the intruders, where it was quickly crushed under their feet.

 

“No!” Patton could only hear Virgil's voice in the commotion, his screaming and grunting as he was pulled away from his work, from his life, from Patton. And Patton couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think-

 

“Virgil-” he gasped, pulling himself up with help from the table he had fallen behind. He saw Virgil, blood running down his face, struggling against the force of the strong men holding him. He locked eyes with Patton, and pulled from the depths of hell a look of bold determination Patton could never forget.

 

“Use it!” Virgil screamed, thrashing in the grip of the masked men. Patton was seeing it all in slow motion, soaking in every last detail of Virgil's face, every tiny scar and blemish and shadow falling over his skin. “For God's sake, use the-”

 

Patton pressed the button on his wrist, tears streaming down his face as Virgil disappeared from view, his final words blurring into the void. Pain coursed through his body as the world shifted, swirling with color and light. Finally, he came to rest in a small alleyway, a thousand unfamiliar sounds and smells and sights meeting his senses.

 

He slumped against the dirty brick wall behind him, shoulders shaking with the tears he couldn't remember how to cry. He didn't know when or where he was, or if he could ever go back. Posters and papers stared at him from the opposite wall, advertising strange names and brands he had never heard of.

 

He could see the brick Virgil had carved his initials into only last week, now faded after many years of abuse. This place wasn't far from his house, though he doubted he had a claim to that place any longer. Years had literally gone by in seconds, leaving Patton alone in a strange world he was never meant to know.

 

_I'll fix this,_ he thought to himself, Virgil's last expression burned in his mind. _I'll find you, and I'll fix this._


	2. Coffeeshop Blues

It took Patton several minutes to gain some composure, and several more after that to convince himself to stand. His legs seemed to wobble under him as he leaned against the wall, taking a few shaky breaths to try and calm himself. He needed to figure out what year he had ended up in, and then figure out if there was anyone who could help him fix his - no, Virgil's - time machine bracelet.

 

He really wished he had paid more attention during those months that Virgil had spent creating it. He was never the mastermind behind any of his and Virgil's creations, and generally had trouble following Virgil's long rambles about the specific details of his inventions. He was sure that with enough time, some of those details would come back to him, but now, his mind felt hollow, void of all thought and emotion.

 

Still, he found within himself the motivation to trudge out of the familiar alleyway - he knew that there was some significance to it aside from that one brick, but everything was a bit foggy at the moment - and wander into the adjacent street. He was taken aback by how drastically certain things had changed, though this wonder was quickly replaced with trepidation. This was just one street - how much could the rest of the world have changed?

 

Over the next hour, Patton found the answer to be “a lot.” Just exploring that one street, he saw so much variety and change that made his heart sink and swell like a symphony in motion - the pride flags nonchalantly displayed in several windows served as a definite boost in confidence that even the confusion of interacting with local teenagers couldn't dent.

 

Seriously, what the hell was a “Vine?”

 

Faster and fancier cars than he'd ever seen zipped through the streets, and the people wore all sorts of merchandise, advertising movies or characters or “memes.” Everyone seemed to know everything about everything, and Patton felt so lost within it all.

 

He pushed the thoughts of Virgil out of his mind, trying to focus on acclimating to this complicated new world he'd fallen into. He felt bad, but there would be no helping Virgil if he was confused, tired, and an emotional wreck. He had learned that lesson awhile ago.

 

As he continued to peruse the same street, scouting out each shop and restaurant, he noticed another familiar shop - a bit too familiar, really.

 

Patton blinked in surprise, staring at the small coffee shop before him. His brother had owned this shop years ago, when Patton was still a teenager, years before he ran off with Virgil. It looked so different now, yet it was the same place in every single way.

 

He entered quietly, sniffling as he sat at one of the booth seats. There was a long line at the counter, and it wasn't like he was here for coffee anyway. He just needed somewhere to calm down, to think. What little emotional stability he'd gained in the past hour came crashing down when he'd spotted the shop - really, it was a miracle that he hadn't thought of it sooner.

 

“Sir?” almost immediately, someone was sitting down across from him - an older man with slight greying hair and a suit and tie on. Patton looked up quickly, taking a moment to study him. His eyes widened as he realized that this man was technically younger than him, if his appearance was any indication of his age. If Patton had come here the “normal way”, he would be in his seventies - far older than the man before him.

 

The aforementioned stranger was beginning to give him a strange look, so he sat up straight and held out a hand to shake.

 

“Uh, hello,” Patton sniffled, leaning back into the seat after a moment. “My name is Patton Hart, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Logan, and the pleasure is mine,” he paused, shaking Patton's outstretched hand. “You appear to be having a substandard day, and you don't seem to be from around here, based on the slight variation of your accent compared to those native to this area.”

 

“That's… quite the observation. And as for my day… well, you could say that again,” Patton sighed. “I've had…. a really bad one. Bad day, I mean.”

 

“Well, perhaps some coffee would help?” the man offered. “Or another drink, if coffee is not your, er 'thing.’ It's on the house.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Patton said tentatively. “Are you the manager?”

 

“Actually, I'm a barista.”

 

“You… with that outfit?”

 

“Is there an issue with my chosen set of clothes?”

 

“No, it's just…” Patton sighed, rubbing his eyes. “It's perfect. And, I'll take a large black coffee, please.”

 

“Noted. With or without whipped topping?”

 

“Without.”

 

“Wonderful. It will be ready momentarily.”

 

Logan got up, leaving Patton alone with his minor existential crisis. He wasn't sure if he was dead or hallucinating, and he also wasn't sure which would be better. This future was so strange, and he hated that he was here already.

 

He just wanted to go home.


End file.
